It's the Wrong Kind of Place to be Thinking of You
by CupcakeBatter
Summary: It's crazy, she knows, how it all starts. He's her sister's fiancé – even though it's hard to imagine why anyone would date Melissa – and there's a million reasons for her to instantly dislike him. Mainly the fact that she dislikes her sister.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is going to have several more chapters. I'm not sure how many yet.

It's going to be kind of a rewrite of the show episode by episode and I'll certainly make a few changes as I see fit.

Please let me know if you like it! :)

The title is taken from the incredible song _9 Crimes _by Damien Rice;

_Leave me out with the waste_  
_This is not what I do_  
_It's the wrong kind of place_  
_To be thinking of you_

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Spencer is one of the few people who are looking forward to school for reasons other than seeing their friends.

Summer is drawing to a close and things are starting to look up for her. She's had a lot of really, really good days lately, and finally she can start concentrating on school and field hockey again. She knows none of her friends would ever understand but she needs something to focus on, especially after the year she's had. After the year they've all had, she should say, but then again they don't talk about it (or at all).

Still, there's three days left before school starts again and now that her internship at the mayor's office is over, she's having trouble finding things to do. She spends an entire day putting the finishing touches on the living room in the barn, another one at the club playing tennis. On her last day of summer break, she finally decides to drive up to the mall. She could use a new outfit for the dinner her family is having tonight to welcome Melissa's new fiancé. Maybe some back to school clothes will help with her boredom.

Of course she runs into Hanna and, after some small talk about how they spent their summer and why they're at the mall, the topic of Alison's disappearance is unavoidable. It hangs over their heads like a heavy cloud waiting to rain, always there and ready to remind them that they're connected, no matter how much time and effort they invest into not talking to each other. But on a day like this, it's impossible to steer the conversation away from it. Hanna says what both of them are thinking.

"I can't believe it's been a year."

Neither can she. She can't believe it's only been a year since her group of friends drifted apart. She can't believe it's only been a year since she started looking the other way when one of them looked in her direction. A year ago, none of them would've guessed just how much Ali going missing would destroy their group dynamic. Aria is off somewhere in Iceland and after a few uncomfortable E-mails at the beginning of the school year, they stopped talking to each other. She can barely remember the last time she had an actual conversation with Emily and while she and Hanna might still smile at each other from across the room, they're not exactly friends anymore either. The only time she sees what they've been up to is when they change their Facebook status. That's how she found out about Hanna and Sean, about Emily becoming captain of the swim team and about how "Aria Montgomery is now using Facebook in Icelandic", meaning her friend who used to flunk Spanish class is now at least proficient in an entirely different language. She wonders if the other girls find this development in their friendship as sad as she does.

Thankful doesn't begin to describe what she's feeling when Hanna changes the topic to clothes. She helps her pick out a really pretty purple top and says outshining Melissa at the family dinner would be fun. For a moment Spencer desperately wants their friendship back. Hanna might've lost a few pounds and upgraded her wardrobe but she's still the nice girl who would always listen to you when you needed her to. But this is not the moment to dwell on the past so she just thanks the girl, makes an excuse about having to get home for the family dinner (which isn't a complete lie) and takes off for the nearest register to pay for the top.

Back home, she's forced to park two houses over because her sister's car is in the driveway, where Spencer usually parks. As she's dropping her bags off in her room, she sees Melissa and a tall guy with brown hair – the new fiancé presumably – disappear into the barn. She hasn't talked to her sister in a while and she's curious to see what Melissa has to say about what she's done with the barn. Meeting the new fiancé before dinner will probably take some of the awkwardness out of that, too, so she decides to go downstairs and check.

Melissa is coming out of the barn just as Spencer closes the door to the kitchen.

"Hey! What do you think?" Spencer asks, arms crossed in front of her chest. She tries her best to sound friendly, but she usually has trouble keeping the competitive edge out of her voice around Melissa. Spencer wants to laugh at her sister's outfit – a beige dress, a white cape (really?) and a big black headband. She wonders if her sister knows how overdressed she looks, even for dinner at the Hastings'.

Both of them walk a few more steps towards each other. "You have an eye for design. I absolutely love it!"

Caught off guard by the compliment, Spencer utters a shocked "thank you" before her sister continues.

"Honestly, when mom said you were converting the barn to a loft, I couldn't see it. But it's beautiful. Job well done."

"I'm glad you like it," Spencer answers, knowing her sister expects her to say something along those lines.

"And I totally appreciate you letting us move in," the smile fades from Spencer's face.

"What?" Of course, this would explain why her sister is showering her with compliments.

"Wren and I are staying in the barn while we re-do my place in the city," Melissa's voice practically oozes with a sense of entitlement and she gives Spencer a big, satisfied, fake smile.

"No, I'm moving in for junior year, Melissa. That's the deal that I made with mom and dad – I got the grades, I did the internship, I gave up my summer because I wanted this," she tries to stay calm, to not give her sister the satisfaction of seeing her upset, but the anger in her voice is obvious.

"Well, you'll just have to _wait_."

"Why can't you stay in my room?"

"We're a couple, Spencer. We need our own space and mom and dad agree," her sister says, looking smug. Of course her parents would side with Melissa. They always do. She hates her sister. She really, really does.

The brown haired guy she saw earlier is now rapidly approaching them. He's wearing a blue V-neck sweater and beige pants, the perfect outfit to compliment her sister's country club worthy dress and cape. Spencer decides to ignore him for now.

"But they promised me!"

Her sister makes an exasperated sound, almost like a laugh, as if Spencer is being outrageous. It takes her a second to calm herself down enough to not slap Melissa across the face. This is so typical.

That's the moment Mr. Perfect (her parents told her he's a med student) decides to make himself known.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, looking back and forth between them. His british accent and that smile are hard to miss, even in her current state of anger. Melissa touches his arm possessively.

"I'm Wren." Spencer doesn't know how to react. Her mouth slightly agape, she stares at both of them. Her sister, now holding onto Wren's arm, seems to think this is the time to end the conversation.

"I was hoping you'd be happy for me," she declares, a downright evil smile playing on her lips while Wren just looks a bit lost.

"Well, you know what they say about hope – it breeds eternal misery," quickly, she turns away from the couple and storms back inside. She's still fuming when she enters the kitchen.

A cup of coffee sounds good to her right now, so she makes herself one and decides that she'll spend the hour she has left before dinner finishing _To Kill a Mockingbird_, the first book of the year her English class is going to read.

It's moments like these when being an only child sounds _very_ appealing to her.

...

Halfway through the chapter where Scouts class discusses democracy, her father knocks on her door.

"Dinner will be ready in 10, Spence," he says from within the doorframe, scrutinizing her attire of a simple plaid skirt and a sweater. "You might want to change." Without waiting for a response, he turns around and closes the door behind him.

Spencer sighs as she puts her book down on her nightstand. She looks over to her desk where she left the top she bought earlier in the bag it came in. Taking attention away from Melissa suddenly sounds like a great idea and she decides to wear it. She picks out some dark jeans and heels to go with it and looks herself over in the mirror. She has to admit, the purple top looks great on her. Noticing how messy her hair looks piled on top of her head, she takes out the clip that was holding it up and lets it fall down in loose waves around her face. Finally, after one last look in the mirror, she makes her way downstairs.

She stops in her tracks a few feet away from the table.

It looks like it's been set with great care and lots of family silverware. Spencer rolls her eyes without even meaning to. Her family never eats together unless they have a guest to impress.

When she looks up, she finds Wren smiling at her from across the room.

"Does your family always make such a big deal about dinner?" he asks, walking around the table to find the place card –_place card! – _with his name on it.

"No, usually not. They probably want to scare you off," she smiles at him. Spencer finds her seat easily and sits down. Wren sits down across from her.

"Well, if those were their intentions, they succeeded. I'm a little nervous. Is there anything I should know about your parents before I meet them?" he looks at her and laughs.

"You'll be fine. They'll love you – fancy British accent, posh clothes and all bright smiles!" She's relieved when he laughs.

"You forgot about med student – that's probably a good thing to mention as well," it's her turn to laugh now. Their conversation is interrupted when Melissa enters the room.

"Hey!" She says, the fakeness obvious in her voice and smile. "What were you two talking about?" she sits down next to Wren and shoots Spencer an angry look.

"We were just sharing some strategies with which I can impress your parents," Wren says, smiling at Melissa briefly before grinning at Spencer. "Your sister said they'd love me. Let's hope she's right."

Melissa looks back and forth between them like she's suspicious. Wren probably doesn't have many reasons to laugh around her.

Finally her parents walk down the stairs and sit down at the table. Both Spencer and Melissa look relieved to escape the tense conversation.

Just before Wren gets up to greet her parents, he winks at Spencer. She checks to see if Melissa is watching them (she's not) before smiling in return. As a second thought she quickly mouths "good luck" and winks back.

She spends the entire dinner thinking about why a guy that's so charming and funny would ever want to date, not to mention marry, her sister.

...

She's sitting outside on the porch reading after dinner when Wren walks out of the barn and towards her. He takes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his back pocket and lights one. She pretends to be absorbed in her book for a few more second before she looks up at him over it.

"Shouldn't you know better? Since we've already established that you're a med student…"

"You're a bit of a smartass!" They both laugh. If he thinks she's a smartass, he clearly hasn't spent enough time with her sister.

"A bit?" She smiles at him and shrugs while raising a brow. They look at each other for a moment before she breaks eye contact and focuses her eyes on the book. "Does my sister know you smoke?" She asks absentmindedly while turning a page.

It's his turn to shrug. "Does she have to know everything?"

Surprised by his answer, Spencer looks up at him. For several seconds they just stare at each other before Spencer looks down, amused. He takes another step towards her.

"I'm sorry that we're moving into your loft," he looks sincerely sorry. She wonders again where the hell her sister found him. "If you want me to say something…"

"It wouldn't make a difference," she says, contemplating how to go on, "But thank you for being sorry." Once again they look at each other, smiling. Spencer sits up, bending the corner of the page she's on to mark how far she's read.

"You're not like Melissa's usual boyfriends," She says quietly, stroking the spine of the paperback she's holding to avoid looking at him.

He laughs again. "How am I unusual?" Spencer looks at him, uncertain how to respond. She gets up.

"It's late. I should go," she walks in his direction and stops right next to him. "I actually like you. That's what's unusual," smiling, she walks past him.

Just as she's about to open the door to the kitchen, she hears him call her name. _Damn him and his accent because he makes it sound so. incrediby. hot. ("Spen-SUH") _She turns around and looks at him expectantly.

"Goodnight," he says, grinning at her.

"Night, Wren." She shoots him a smile before turning back around and disappearing into the kitchen.

As she closes the door, she catches a glimpse of him standing on the porch, cigarette in hand, shaking his head as he grins.

...

She lies awake for an hour that night, trying to stop thinking about him.

She's in trouble. None of Melissa's boyfriends have ever been people you could get along with.

She doesn't know what, when or how but she has a feeling that being Wren's "friend" is not really what her mind or body wants.

His accent, charm, sense of humor and just the fact that he's ridiculously attractive will certainly make that impossible.

With a shudder she finally comes to a realization; she's attracted to him. To her sister's fiancé.

She wonders how she'll ever be awake enough to sit through 6 hours of school tomorrow. (She briefly wonders how she'll be able to face her sister or Wren tomorrow, too.)

It's 2 AM when she finally falls into a light, dreamless, sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

There's something very ironic about running into a person – running into in the literal way that is – when you're tired. Spencer is busy buttoning up her blouse and doesn't bother looking up as she races down the stairs and runs smack into Wren's arms.

Thankfully he seems to be more awake and aware of the situation than she is, his arms immediately reaching for Spencer's hips to steady her.

"Wow," he laughs, looking at her. "Careful there! Falling down these stairs would've ended in some rather ugly bruises." He flashes a lopsided grin.

Spencer just stares, mouth hanging open in shock. She's not good with words before she has her coffee in the morning. Finally she lets out an awkward laugh, afraid that she might seem like an idiot if she doesn't respond.

She's late for school - late by her standards anyway - and if she doesn't get out of this situation and out the door soon she'll be late by regular students' standards too. But she's still in shock, trying to calm her breathing enough to say something.

"You look tired," Wren observes. "Didn't get much sleep, did you?" He smiles.

Spencer blushes. There's no way he can know exactly _why_ she wasn't able to sleep last night but still, something in his voice sounds like he's suggesting… something. She briefly wonders if he's flirting with her.

No, that's impossible. It must be the accent. Maybe she's imagining it altogether.

Once again she has a feeling she looks like she's mentally challenged, just staring at him with her mouth slightly agape. She clears her throat.

"I-", there's that awkward laugh again,"Uh, I'm late for school, so…" She loses her train of thought as she looks over his shoulder and into the kitchen. There, on the isle, sits her saving grace – the coffee maker. It's moments like these when she's thankful her father gets up an hour before she does because the coffee pot is half full and running.

"Oh right," he taps his fingers against her hips. She doubts he did that consciously. Suddenly she's aware of just how close they are standing to each other, him a step beneath her, cancelling out their height difference. She takes in his appearance – disheveled looking hair, slightly scruffy face, sleep still prominent in his eyes. It's really not fair for a person to look this good just minutes after getting up.

Spencer pinches her arm to snap out of her daze. She's glad Wren doesn't seem to notice.

"So you should probably let go of me." A giggle escapes her throat before she can make an effort to stop it. She mentally curses herself for sounding like an insecure 12 year old.

Wren laughs, carefully removing his hands from her hips. "Just making sure you don't hurt yourself."

"Right, well, thanks for that, Dr. Wren," with a flick of her hand, Spencer quickly moves her hair behind her ear. It's ridiculous how nervous she is. This is a perfectly innocent conversation, after all. But somehow everything he says strikes a chord with her.

He does that infuriatingly cute thing again where he laughs and shakes his head at the same time. Then he steps aside, making room for her to walk past beside him on the small step. "I'd recommend some physical therapy. Or maybe just a cup of coffee!" He winks at her, gesturing for her to continue down the stairs. "You look like you could use the caffeine."

"I'll take that into consideration. Thanks again!" With one last smile thrown into his direction, she sets her right foot on the next step down, careful to grip the banister for support.

She's at the bottom of the stairs when she hears his voice again. "Glad to be of service!" That accent of his really should be illegal. The distraction it provides is just too much to handle at this time of day (or ever). She has to force herself to walk straight to the kitchen without looking back. It's harder than it sounds.

Shaking her head at her own embarrassing actions, she pours herself a cup of coffee to go, grabs her book bag and heads out the door.

…

It's a quarter to 8 when Spencer finally pulls into the student parking lot at Rosewood High School. She gives herself 5 minutes of sitting in her car and finishing her coffee to calm down. Reflecting on what just happened seems appropriate.

Her morning is going less than ideal so far – not only did she hit the snooze button on her alarm three times in a row, no, she'd also made a complete fool of herself by running straight into Wren on the stairs. Somehow the world is working against her today.

Taking out her organizer, she checks her schedule for the fifth time in two days. Her first class of the day is English, followed by AP Latin and Russian History. Normally she'd have biology, Calculus and French after that but since today is the first day, they only have a half day. _At least one good thing happening on a crappy day like this_, she thinks. That way she'll be able to go home and relax for a few hours before field hockey practice starts. It might only be the first day of school but she's predicting some major homework from both her Russian History and her Latin teacher so some time to spend on that will be nice.

She has 10 minutes left until her first class of the day starts but she wants to drop her books off at her locker before, so she gets out of the car, book bag slung over her shoulder.

As she makes her way to the main entrance of the school, she can't help but roll her eyes at what she likes to call 'first day of school syndrome' happening all around her – girls hugging and squealing about how much they've missed their best friend, discussing their schedules and other gossip they've heard about during the break. Even back when she still had four best friends at school with her she never took part in that ritual.

At one point, just as she's walking past a group of sophomores near the principal's office, she sees a blonde girl snicker and point at her, mumbling something about how horrible her outfit looks. Spencer laughs to herself as she walks on. These girls have a lot to learn about life if they think her outfit is important enough to talk about.

Finally she arrives at her old locker, the same one she's had for two years, and quickly turns the dial to open the lock. Briefly she looks around and smirks when she notices several people grabbing the locks on their lockers in frustration. One more thing she doesn't have to worry about today.

She puts all of her textbooks and binders - except for her English binder and copy of To Kill a Mockingbird - into her locker, slings her now much lighter book bag back over her shoulder and closes the locker door. She's about to look at her watch when the first bell goes off, signaling that she has five more minutes to get to class.

It's a habit she can't break – scanning the hall for the familiar faces of Aria, Emily and Hanna. Sometimes she catches herself searching for the face of another blonde she used to call a friend.

Other people would most likely wallow in self pity if they were in her position – walking the hall without friends or people to say hi to – but Spencer doesn't mind. She keeps her head up high and ignores the looks thrown her way.

She catches sight of Hanna and Mona (always a package deal nowadays) entering a classroom which, according to a sign on the wall, is Mr. Fitz'. So they're in the same English class. She takes a deep breath and enters the room, waving at Hanna, who already took up a seat close to the door. Hannah waves back cautiously, seemingly scanning the room to see if people noticed. Confused, Spencer looks around the room and finds Aria and Emily sitting in the middle of the room, quietly talking to each other. That explains why Hanna would be reluctant to acknowledge her.

She feels slightly overwhelmed if she's being honest. So Aria is back after all. Spencer doesn't know why she's surprised, since the Montgomery's had planned to return after a year, but still, seeing Aria sit there, shooting her an uneasy smile, throws her off her game. Quickly she takes the last available seat – right in the front, just how she likes it – and stares at a space on the wall.

For just a second, Spencer wonders if maybe, just maybe, Aria's return could help them get their friendship back. A loud exclamation from Mona (_"OH-MY-GOSH!"_) followed by Hanna laughing hysterically makes her abandon the thought. Maybe they're better off without each other, without the constant reminder that Ali is gone hanging between them.

She looks up to see her new English teacher standing behind the desk, writing his name down on the board. _Mr. Fitz_. He turns around, facing the class and takes a deep breath. She gives him an encouraging smile and he smiles back at her as he looks around the room. He seems very young for a teacher, most likely straight out of college.  
It's obvious that he's nervous to start talking. He keeps wiping his hands on his pants.

All of a sudden his gaze seems to be fixed on someone and his mouth opens in shock. "Holy crap," he says, and Spencer can't resist turning around to see who he's looking at. It's Aria. The entire class is now watching their interaction, waiting for something exciting to happen so they can be the first to tell others the juicy details later. Aria's phone goes off, and she grabs it, mumbling an apology under her breath. Mr. Fitz seems to use the distraction to get back on track.

"I'm Mr. Fitz, your new English teacher." The majority of the class turns their stares away from Aria, seemingly disappointed that nothing more exciting is going to happen, but Spencer watches the brunette for a little longer. She's staring at something on her phone – presumably a text message if the notification sound that went off seconds ago was any indication - looking scared. Spencer makes a mental note to ask Aria about it if they ever talk to each other again.

For now, she'll settle for taking notes on Mr. Fitz's plans for the semester, knowing full well that she'll never look at them again after today.

…

As usual, field hockey practice is absolutely grueling. Coach Henderson makes them run ten extra laps and doesn't react well to questions about why exactly she's doing it. (_"You expect me to go easy on you today? You had three classes! Now run!"_) Spencer isn't going to get involved in that conversation, knowing full well that Coach hates complainers. Complainers have no shot at making Varsity Captain.

After running laps, they start the actual practice drill; Running up and down the field for an additional 5 minutes before going over to dribbling exercises. _Stop and start_, an exercise requiring the players to run up and down the field while dribbling a ball and stopping abruptly every ten feet, is especially tough to get through on a hot summer day like this, so Spencer is glad when Coach announces they'll do some passing now. She makes sure to keep an eye on Martha – that girl seems to have gotten really good over the summer – as she absentmindedly passes a ball back and forth with Naomi and Lisa.

To finish off practice, they play short three on three matches.

A cold shower has never sounded so good.

Before she can make it inside the locker room, Coach Henderson taps her on the shoulder. "Nice job today, Spencer!" She smiles at Spencer, an almost proud look in her eyes. Spencer politely thanks her and heads for her locker.

On her way there, she decides to skip the shower, drive home as fast as possible and instead jump into the cold pool.

As she approaches her locker, she sees Emily standing at hers, just a few feet away. The girl wears a towel and clearly just got out of swim practice. Spencer decides that this is the ideal moment to ask about Aria.

"Hey. You've been hanging out with Aria?" She asks, before she can do something stupid like talk herself out of it.

"Not really." Emily's answer is curt and short. Spencer stores her hockey stick in her locker and closes it before turning to Emily, who has fallen silent as she's staring at a piece of paper.

"Emily?" She instinctively takes a step towards her. Emily quickly folds the piece of paper. "Is everything all right?"

The girl gives her a fake smile as a response. "Why wouldn't it be?" Spencer lingers for another second, unsure of how to respond.

After a moment, she walks past Emily and out of the locker room. She's desperate to get out of her field hockey uniform and into her pool.

…

The short drive home feels longer than it is, mainly because her back hurts like hell from those passing drills but also because she can't shake the feeling that something weird is going on. That look on Emily's face as she was reading the note somehow seemed familiar to Spencer. As she pulls into the driveway of her house (thank god Melissa isn't home), she realizes where she's seen it before: just hours before, when Aria was reading the text message she'd gotten during English class. Both girls had seemed terrified.

She grabs her bag, gets out of the car and heads straight up to her room to change into a bikini. The thought of the cold water engulfing her aching muscles is almost enough to stop Spencer from grabbing a can of soda from the fridge but then she realizes just how thirsty she is and decides to take one outside with her. Just as she's closing the fridge door, she hears the door to the patio close behind her and turns around.

She's not prepared to see Wren standing there, in nothing but a pair of blue trunks. His skin is glistening with droplets of water. She wills herself to stop looking at his abs and instead focuses on looking into his eyes.

"Perfect time for the Jacuzzi!" He says, smiling brightly as he steps closer to the kitchen isle.

She ignores the remark and instead changes the subject to what she deems a safer topic. "I was confused this morning, so I forgot to ask. I thought you guys weren't moving in until next week."

"Melissa wanted to get settled before classes start," Wren answers without missing a beat. He looks at her intently as she opens the can of soda. In that moment she's glad for the towel hanging over her shoulder, covering most of her bikini-clad body. As if reading her thoughts, Wren goes on. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel, would you?" He raises his eyebrows and shoots her another winning smile. Without hesitation, Spencer takes the towel into her left hand and throws it at him, smiling as he catches it. He grins in response and turns around to dry himself.

For several seconds Spencer just stands there, admiring his back muscles as she sips her diet coke.

Bringing the can to her mouth results in an unexpected burst of pain in her upper back so she puts it down on the kitchen isle. She winces as she grabs her shoulder in a weak attempt to get rid of the pain. Distracted by the stinging, she doesn't even notice that Wren has turned around again and is looking at her with concern until he talks to her.

"Tough day at school?"

"A tough field hockey practice," Spencer answers, ending the statement with a nervous laugh.

"I rowed for Oxford!" Wren says matter-of-factly, putting the towel on the kitchen isle and taking another step towards her.

"Oh, that looks good on a med school app," she replies playfully, her face now barely two feet away from him.

"I did it 'cause I loved it." He replies, sporting an almost boyish smile.

Spencer eyes him for a moment, to see if he's being serious. She makes an amused sound.

The fact that he's currently looking her up and down doesn't go unnoticed by her, of course.

"You probably have a float built up in your bursa sac," he says, walking around the kitchen isle to stand behind her. She can feel his hand momentarily touch her back as he lowers it.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she retorts, turning her head to look up at him. It takes her a second to realize that his face is only a few inches away from hers. They smirk at each other.

She's absolutely certain now – he's flirting with her. Then again, she's not exactly telling him to stop.

"I can help," he makes a gesture towards her with his hands. Spencer seems to consider this offer for a moment before mumbling a hushed "Yeah okay," then adding a more audible "Dr. Wren." She turns her head away from him and bites her lip in anticipation.

Her skin is tingling as soon as she feels his hands on her. He immediately finds exactly the muscle that's bothering her and thoroughly kneads the area. She can't stop the gasp from escaping her mouth.

"Oh, that's awesome," she sighs and closes her eyes. He puts more pressure on his hands and a full moan falls from her lips.

"Better, right?" He whispers in her ear and she can hear all kinds of subtext in his voice. She relaxes into his touch.

"Wren?" Her sister's shrill voice immediately makes her shoulders tense up again and she leans away from Wren. They exchange a quick look, one that clearly says '_this was inappropriate_' before Spencer grabs the towel from the isle and walks outside. Of course she doesn't do it without looking back at Wren, now sipping from her diet coke and smiling at her sister.

She lets out a breath. Seems like Melissa didn't see her.

Quickly, she throws the towel onto one of the lounge chairs and jumps head first into the pool.

Cooling her head sounds like the only sensible thing to do right now.

She fights hard to get the feeling of his hands on her back out of her mind.

(But, _damn_, he's good with those hands.)

If they keep going like this, they will have a lot of explaining to do once her sister finds out.

(_If her sister finds out.)_


	3. Chapter 3

It's later that night when Spencer hears them giggling together out in front of the barn. As if acting on instinct, she disregards the book she is reading on her bed and moves to the window to catch a glimpse of Wren and Melissa, laughing as they talk to each other.

She'd ignore the jealous rage boiling in her stomach if she could.

Then they kiss. She purposely makes herself stay and watch to remind her that the way she's been acting is completely inappropriate. Not to mention ridiculous, since obviously there is no way she could ever act on these… _feelings _she's developing for Wren. (They're mostly physical. Mostly.)

But he's nice and funny and looks like he jumped straight out of an Abercrombie ad and he has that accent and… There are a lot of things to like about him. The fact that he's dating (engaged to) her sister is not one of those things.

The idea that she's actually jealous is so absurd that she can't even bring herself to be mad at herself. She kind of feels bad for herself for being so pathetic.

She's thankful for the email notification sound her laptop makes in that moment because it gives her an excuse to stop torturing herself, to stop noticing how Wren moves his muscular fingers over Melissa's hips.

_Poor Spencer. Always wants Melissa's boyfriends.  
But remember, if you kiss, I tell._

_-A_

She stares at the screen, scanning over the message again and again. Before she can even begin to comprehend what any of this means, she's reminded of something she'd rather forget.

The first time she went after one of Melissa's boyfriends had been over a year and a half ago. She had been young and stupid and nothing had really happened, except for a kiss. Alison had just so happened to witness it.

All Spencer had wanted was to forget it ever happened, to forget about what a fool she'd made of herself by kissing Ian, who clearly had no interest in her. She'd felt so bad about it, she'd considered telling her sister about it almost daily. Eventually, she'd decided there was no reason to tell her and then Melissa and Ian broke up, making it all the more useless to give her sister another reason to hate her.

She doubts Melissa ever found out.

Ali, always looking for ways to stir up drama, had tried to use this against Spencer. She'd demanded Spencer tell her sister.

But Spencer had stood her ground, threatening Ali that she would tell the police about what had really happened to Jenna Marshall, which shut the girl up pretty quickly.

The evil look on Ali's face before she stormed off was one Spencer would never forget. You didn't just threaten Alison DiLaurentis and get away with it.

She should've known Ali would do something like this, use her moment of weakness against her, at some point. But why had she decided to contact Spencer now? Aside from the fact that she'd been missing for a year, the question of how she knew about Spencer's attraction to Wren was also a mystery to Spencer. She'd been looking out the window when the email arrived. Is she being watched? Is there a camera hidden in her room somewhere?

Spencer tries to calm herself down. She gets up and paces around the room, trying to prioritize. She'd simply walk over to the window and look for anything that could potentially be a way to spy on her.

Rational thinking is not something she's capable of right then. There are so many things she doesn't understand. Is A really Ali? It has to be. Only Ali knew about Ian. But still, none of it makes even the slightest bit of sense.

Putting her hands on the window sill to steady herself, Spencer closes her eyes and sighs.

If there's anything she hates, it's things that don't make sense.

She opens her eyes again and looks out the window. Nothing seems suspicious to her. She looks up at Ali's room, noticing the flicker of some sort of light source behind the window. For a split second she can just make out a girl with long, curly blonde hair watching her. But before Spencer can do as much as process the idea of it, the girl is gone again.

She's seeing ghosts.

…

After that, Spencer doesn't trust herself to be alone any longer. She has just diagnosed herself with Posttraumatic stress disorder. So she goes downstairs in hopes of finding her mother or father home.

Neither of them is. They both like to stay at the office until long after dinner, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to Spencer that they aren't home at 8 PM on a Monday.

Sighing loudly, she turns on the TV to have some sort of a background noise to accompany her to the kitchen. She's in luck – there's a Dance Mom's marathon going on. Spencer normally wouldn't give in to the temptation of trashy reality TV shows but today is different. She needs the distraction.

She's cutting an apple when she hears the first siren go off. Immediately she runs to the front door, grabs her keys and goes outside. Most of the neighborhood is already gathered on the sidewalk, huddled together as they exchange hushed theories about what's going on. Rosewood is a small town so the chances of knowing the person the police are here for is too big of an opportunity for gossip to pass up.

Spencer doesn't have to walk far to get a clear view of the crime scene. There are at least three squad cars parked right in front of the house next door to hers, where Alison used to live. She watches in silent shock as the police walk across the lawn with a body bag on a stretcher.

Nobody has to tell her who's in it. She knows. Everybody knows.

Still, a wave of shocked exclamations goes through the crowd that's assembled on the street.

Spencer stands motionless, clutching the thin cardigan she's wearing until her knuckles turn white. There's no reason for her to stay outside any longer. There's nothing left to see or ask about. She can feel the people looking at her, waiting for some sort of reaction because she was Ali's friend. She won't give them the satisfaction of seeing her pain. She walks further down the street, away from her house and finally stops a few houses down from the masses of people.

Her whole body is shaking now, her heart beating faster and faster as the seconds go by. This is all too much for her to comprehend. Knowing that Ali is gone for good makes her feel relieved in a sick, twisted way. If she's being honest, she can't pretend she had any hope left that Ali would come back.

Still, nothing about this makes sense. She got an e-mail from Ali (or at least she thought she did) just minutes ago. If A isn't Ali, then who is? Who else could possibly know about her and Ian?

Spencer doesn't know where to begin to process any of this.

A car pulls up a few feet in front of her and she sees Aria getting out of it. Aria, too, doesn't need to be told why the police are there. She takes one look in the direction of the squad cars before turning around and walking towards Spencer.

_Is this really happening?_ That seems to be the question Aria is asking Spencer with her eyes. Spencer just slightly nods her head. They stand next to each other in silence for several minutes. Already Ali's death is bringing them closer together than they've been for a year.

Finally Aria breaks the silence.

"I heard that the cops took Hanna to the police station today," she says, her voice shaky and her words rushed.

"Wait.. you don't think she'd ever talk about-" All of a sudden Hanna is there too, finishing Spencer's sentence for her.

"The Jenna thing? We made a promise."

Together, they stare across the street at the crime scene.

Then, as if nothing ever happened, they separate and go home without saying another word.

…

For the first time in her life Spencer Hastings skips school.

She doesn't want to be there today, not when everybody is going to be talking about Ali and, in turn, about Aria, Spencer, Emily and Hanna – the dead girl's best friends. It's the label she'll be stuck with for the rest of her high school life, possibly even longer, and she just doesn't want to deal with any of it today.

She hasn't cried yet but she thinks that's inevitable and breaking down in front of the entire school isn't exactly the way she'd like it to go.

Last night was horrible for her in terms of falling asleep and the few hours she did sleep were filled with terrible dreams about Alison. There was a particularly disturbing one that had Spencer wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. In it, Alison was fighting a faceless man dressed in black who kept shoving her against a wall. Finally, outraged by Ali's insistence on fighting him, he strangled her. Spencer woke up just as life and color was draining from Ali's face.

So she's insanely tired but at the same time absolutely terrified of falling asleep again. There's no way she wants to live through yet another version of how Alison got killed.

Come 8 AM, she's on her second cup of coffee. Currently, she's enjoying the perks of being a student with perfect attendance – when she called the school, her guidance counselor didn't doubt her story about her having the flu for even a second. Or maybe she did but figured that given the situation, Spencer deserves the mental health day.

Briefly, Spencer thinks about calling one of the other girls. She wonders if they made it to school today. It's only the second day of the school year and under any other circumstances Spencer would be appalled to be missing it. Right now she feels no regrets whatsoever about not going.

Finally deciding against calling the other girls, Spencer considers her breakfast options. She _could _eat that apple sitting on the kitchen counter but she knows for a fact that there's chocolate fudge brownie ice cream in the freezer. Normally she'd make herself some waffles to go with the ice cream but today she can't be bothered.

Smiling to herself, she grabs the ice cream container and a spoon and walks over to the couch. She loves being alone in the house because she gets to do things her mother would never approve of; for example sitting on the couch in a tank top and sleeping shorts, eating ice cream straight from the container and watching TV. She covers herself with a blanket and zaps through some morning talk shows until she sees a picture of Alison on the local news channel. Suddenly the ice cream in her mouth doesn't taste good anymore. Spencer feels sick to the stomach but can't make herself change the channel.

They're showing footage from last night, going back and forth between shots of the police carrying the body bag and reactions from the people in the crowd.

_MISSING TEEN'S BODY FOUND_

That's what the caption in the corner says.

_"Current owners of the residence were in the process of demolishing the structure to make room for a renovation project when workers made the gruesome discovery. The parents of the deceased were unavailable for comment but a family spokesperson has confirmed the gazebo was under construction the summer 15-year-old Alison DiLaurentis disappeared."_

A close up shot of an older woman crying at the scene of crime, followed by one of a police officer shaking his head in shock are shown as the news lady makes a dramatic pause.

_"The family is asking for privacy as they come to terms with the sad ending to a yearlong mystery, and local authorities are coming to terms with the fact a killer is at large in Rosewood." _

Spencer puts the ice cream container down on the table, not taking her eyes off of the TV.

The news jump cut to an interview with a police officer, apparently a detective with the Rosewood police department. _"Although Alison DiLaurentises body did show signs of a blunt force head trauma, the cause of her death was suffocation."_ Spencer gasps. Now that is something she didn't have to hear. Her thoughts go back to the dream she had the night before. Ironically, the cause of Ali's death in that had also been suffocation.

She turns off the TV, draws her knees up to her chest and rests her head on top of the blanket that's covering her. Lack of sleep and hearing the horrible details of Ali's death are not a good combination at all. She hugs her knees and closes her eyes. Maybe sleeping isn't such a bad idea after all.

Just as she's about to drift off, she hears someone call her name.

"Spencer?" It's Wren. She'd recognize that accent anywhere.

Realizing just how ridiculous she must look with her head on her knees, Spencer quickly sits up and pulls the blanket up to her shoulders. She'd try to fix her hair if she didn't already know just how impossible it is to get hair messily piled on top of her head to look good.

Wren somehow manages to look both amused and concerned at the same time. She takes in his attire of a plain blue T-Shirt and sweatpants (his pajamas, she figures) and doesn't feel underdressed any longer.

"Hi," she says, not meeting his eyes, "what are you doing here? I thought you had class." Truth is, she hasn't really thought about whether or not he or Melissa will be home today.

"I was just going to get some breakfast, since the fridge in the barn is still completely empty," he holds up the apple in his hand, "My classes got cancelled so I was planning to eat junk food and watch horrible TV shows for the remainder of the day, until Melissa gets back." Spencer folds her legs underneath her, inviting Wren to sit down next to her. He smiles at her as he does. "Anyway, that's my excuse for being here. What's yours? Didn't think I'd ever see the great Spencer Hastings skip school." He smiles at her sympathetically to let her know he's joking.

"Yeah, well… after yesterday I just didn't exactly feel like pretending to be fine all day," she says, surprised at her own honesty. She shifts her gaze uncomfortably. Wren turns his body towards Spencer, putting his arm on the back rest of the couch for support.

"Melissa told me about the girl that used to live next door." Spencer sighs, biting her lip to stop the tears from forming in her eyes. "Was she a friend of yours?" That does it for Spencer. Seeing somebody so concerned finally makes her release all of the pent up sadness she's been holding back. She hasn't cried about Ali's disappearance in almost a year, and now that she finally knows that Ali is gone for good – dead – she can't stop herself any longer. Before, she could always cling to the hope that one day Ali would come back but now that tiny bit of hope is gone.

She buries her face in her hands. Crying is one of her least favorite things to do – she feels like she has no control of her breathing or the sounds she makes or anything at all – and crying in front of other people is even worse than crying when she's alone.

She's trying not to choke on her tears, desperately wiping them away from her eyes but it's no use – her body won't let her stop.

Wren's arms are around her just seconds after she starts crying and without even thinking about it, she let's herself fall into them. She clings to him, trying desperately to stop crying but it just won't work.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers in her ear, pulling her closer to him.

She wants to say something back, anything to lighten the mood but the tears won't stop pouring down her face.

After several minutes of sobbing, Spencer finds the ability to speak again.

"Thank you," she says, the words barely audible. She pulls back to look at him. He's still looking at her concerned but a small smile is playing on his lips. For a moment she thinks he's going to kiss her but she doesn't trust her brain to read signals well at the moment so she figures her mind is playing a trick on her. "I'm sorry for the tears… I just haven't really gotten any sleep last night and there's so many things going on.. I'm sorry for ruining your shirt too. It's just that I feel like I don't even know where to start and-," he gently puts a hand on her arm to stop her.

"It's fine, Spencer. You don't need to apologize. What happened is horrible and you have every right to be upset about that," he looks at her insistently, "And don't worry about my shirt. I wasn't really going to leave the house today anyway." He smiles at her and she manages a small smile.

She's still crying a little although she thinks the worst of it might be over. For some reason she feels better now than she did before, like a little bit of the pressure has been lifted off of her shoulders. She also has a headache and is even more tired than she was before.

"I'm going to get a glass of water," Wren says. "Do you want anything?"

"Some water would be great. Thank you," she smiles at him. He gives her a quick hug before he gets up to walk over to the kitchen.

He returns moments later with a bottle of water and two glasses. He sits back down, pours water into both of the glasses and hands one to Spencer. She takes it from him and takes a big gulp. She didn't even notice how thirsty she is until now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wren asks, setting his own glass of water back down on the table.

Spencer gives him a tearful smile. "Thank you for offering but I think I just want to sleep for a while."

"I wouldn't mind some sleep either…"

"I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep anyway."

She takes another sip of water. He's looking at her like he expects an explanation. "Okay, but don't laugh at me. I had some terrible nightmares last night so I'm a little afraid of falling asleep right now."

"I'd offer to stay with you but I think this couch might be a little bit too small for the both of us."

Spencer wipes a leftover tear from the corner of her eye. "You don't have to do that."

"I would feel horrible if I left you alone like this."

"But-" He interrupts her with a laugh.

"I'm insisting, Spencer. So stop fighting me on this."

"In that case, I'd suggest my bed would be a much more comfortable place to sleep on than this couch."

Wren gets up and holds out his hand for Spencer to take. She laughs at the silly gesture but takes his hand nonetheless. She's about to walk towards the stairs when she realizes that the ice cream, now completely melted of course, is still sitting on the table.

"I should probably throw this away before we go. My mom will be really mad if she sees it like this."

Wren seems to consider this for a moment. "Just go up to your room. I'll clean this up and be upstairs to join you in a few minutes, okay?" Spencer smiles, gives his hand a squeeze and nods.

She walks upstairs and to her room without even thinking about the fact that she's about to sleep in a bed with Wren. Somehow having him comfort her feels natural, like they've known each other for years.

Besides, she has other things on her mind right now.

She closes the blinds on her window, slips under the covers and shuts her eyes.

A few minutes later, she pretends to be asleep when she feels the bed dip as Wren crawls in beside her. She tries hard to keep her breathing even. He seems to be shifting around for a moment before he finally lies down on his side parallel to her and puts his arm around her waist.

She doesn't know how this happened but she does know that she feels ten times better already.

The last thing she registers before she falls asleep is Wren's hand drawing soothing circles on her hip.

They sleep for seven hours.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of her phone ringing is what wakes Spencer up. She's confused for a moment, not sure exactly of what is going on. Slowly, she opens her eyes and groans at the brightness. It takes her a second to understand that's she's in her room. Wren's arm is slung loosely around her waist as he sleeps peacefully.

Letting out a long sigh, she reaches for her phone to check the caller ID. _Emily._ She answers the phone reluctantly, trying to keep her voice down in order to not wake up Wren.

"Hello?" Beside her, Wren stirs.

"Spencer! Hey." She sits up against the headboard of her bed and sighs again. Next to her, Wren seems to be trying to reach for her and pull her back down.

Awkward silence sets in almost immediately.

"So what's up?" Spencer asks quietly.

Wren mumbles her name and opens his eyes.

"Oh. I tried calling earlier, but you didn't pick up. Did Ms. DiLaurentis talk to you yet?" Without waiting for an answer, she clears her throat. "They're having the funeral tomorrow."

The last thing Spencer wants to think about right now is Ali's funeral. She briefly considers just hanging up on Emily but decides that there's no reason to be rude.

"Go back to sleep, Spencer", a tired Wren mumbles next to her. She hopes it's not loud enough for Emily to hear.

"I gotta g-" Emily interrupts her before she can finish her excuse to hang up.

"Who was that?"

"I- no one! I'll call you later, okay? Thank you for calling though."

"Okay..." Emily is clearly confused.

They say their goodbyes and hang up.

As she puts her phone away, Spencer stares at the digital clock on her nightstand in shock. It's almost 5; they have slept through the entire day. Pushing the thoughts of Ali's funeral away, she sinks back down under the covers and turns to face Wren, who's currently rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Hi", she says and mentally curses herself for how stupid she sounds. Wren doesn't seem to mind.

"Sleep well?", he asks sleepily, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Nervous laughter bubbles out of her mouth. She's too tired to be embarrassed about sounding like a five-year-old.

"Yeah, I guess I did. It's 5 and I didn't wake up once.. Your snoring must've had a calming effect on me." They exchange a challenging look.

"Hey now. I don't snore!" The words roll off his tongue delicately and once again Spencer is struck by how incredibly hot his accent sounds.

"How would you know? You were asleep," she smiles at him before looking away, afraid that he might've caught her staring at him. "We should probably get up before people start looking for us.." She sighs before turning away from him and sitting up at the edge of her bed. The cold air hitting her bare legs makes her feel the strong urge to just crawl back under the covers and never leave her bed ever again.

Wren laughs in that infuriatingly charming way of his. "I did lock the door behind me this morning to prevent just that from happening."

Spencer is glad that she's sitting with her back to Wren because otherwise he'd be able to see the shocked expression on her face. He locked the door behind him? What exactly did he think was gonna happen between the two of them that made him think locking the door was necessary? She curses herself for overthinking things. He obviously knew that her sister would be furious if she found them in bed together, no matter how innocent the circumstances might be.

She gets up and quickly walks towards her closet, suddenly aware of the fact that she's only wearing a tank top and cotton shorts. She sees a Hollis sweatshirt lying on top of her desk, Wren must've taken if off and put it there before he fell asleep, and walks around the bed to put it on. She doesn't know why she does it but it looks so comfortable, she can't help herself.

Grabbing it, she turns her head around to find Wren still sitting on her bed, watching her intently.

"You don't mind, do you?" She blushes as she pulls it over her head. Wren just shrugs.

"Looks better on you than it does on me anyway."

It smells like him. The fact that she knows what he smells like now makes her blush again. An uneasy laugh escapes her throat as she quickly looks away.

"Who called you just now?" Wren asks. Spencer hears him shuffle around with the blanket so she turns around. She doesn't expect him to stand at the foot of her bed in just his boxers. Her eyes automatically fall to his abs._ Does he work out?_ She wonders if it would be weird of her to ask him. Giving her head a slight shake, she forces herself to look into his eyes instead. He clearly noticed her staring because he's just staring at her now, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Spencer ignores the smug look on his face and goes back to his question.

"Just a friend. She wanted to tell me that Ali's funeral is tomorrow." She can practically feel the casual atmosphere in the room turn serious. Wren apparently does too, because he pulls on the shirt he'd dropped on the floor earlier.

This is going to be a conversation serious enough to require clothing. Spencer takes a deep breath.

"How do you feel about that?" He asks, sounding so sincere that she almost feels bad for what she's about to say.

"And you're what now, my therapist?" She crosses her arms in front of her chest protectively. "I feel like shit, that's how I feel about it." He closes the gap between their bodies, stopping just a few inches away from her.

"I didn't mean to upset you." His hand reaches out to touch her arm reassuringly.

"That was mean. I overreacted. Sorry, I'm just on edge, that's all." She tries out a small smile.

"It's okay, Spencer." He smiles back. For a moment she forgets to breathe as she stares into his green eyes. She's the first one to look away, looking over his shoulder at the door instead.

"Now I've witnessed you skipping school AND curse in just one day… I wonder what other surprises I'm in for." He laughs as he brushes his hand along her hip before he rests it on her arm again.

_He's definitely flirting now_, Spencer thinks. _Oh god, what do I do?_

"You better go check on Melissa", she says before she can start to panic, trying to remind him that they really shouldn't get along.

"Right." He says, but doesn't stop looking straight into her eyes. Reluctantly, he removes his hand from her arm and lets it rest against his hip instead. "Are you sure you want me to go?" He raises a brow in concern.

For the millionth time she wonders where her sister found a guy like Wren. How could somebody so nice, charming and considerate possibly want to date her bitchy older sister?

"I'm sure. I have some homework to catch up on and some time to think would be nice." She smiles at him. "But thank you, for, you know.. caring enough to nap with me." Another nervous laugh forces its way out of her throat.

He grabs her hand and squeezes. "Anytime." She can't pretend not to notice what he's implying. If she's being honest with herself, she's hoping there's going to be a next time. He lets go of her hand again and she tells herself that she's not sad to see him go. He walks towards the door. "You know where to find me if you need me." His hand is already on the doorknob when she calls his name. He turns his head around to look at her. "Yeah?" She finds it hard to ignore how hopeful he sounds.

"You should probably put your sweatpants back on before you go." She giggles and points towards the sweats sitting on her desk, neatly folded. He looks down at himself and laughs.

"Right. Wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea." He winks at her and makes his way over to the desk. She blushes and looks away. _He's probably this flirty with everyone_, she tells herself, _that doesn't mean he likes you_. She looks back over to him just in time to see him unlock the door.

"Talk to you later, _Spencer_." He puts too much emphasis on her name but somehow it sounds better that way. Slowly, he raises his hand in a wave. The gesture makes her smile.

"Yeah, talk to you later, _Wren_." She says, trying to copy his way of pronouncing her name when she says his, and gives a small wave back. She hears him chuckle as he walks out the door.

She spends the rest of the night desperately trying to focus on anything but Wren's body/laugh/accent/ability to calm her down – which is actually a nice distraction from the fact that just yesterday she found out one of her best friends has been murdered – and instead makes an effort to get a head start on her research paper for A.P. Russian History. She reads countless Wikipedia articles about the Russian Revolution but doesn't even bother to make notes.

Instead she finds herself googling _I'm attracted to my sister's boyfriend. What do I do about it?_ - apparently Jenny, 13, from Cleveland, Ohio has the same problem so she's glad she's not alone in this – which she consciously catches herself doing a few seconds later and quickly closes the tab.

Her phone beeps from where it's still sitting on her nightstand next to her bed. She gets up to check who the text is from and almost drops it when she reads it.

**Careful, Spence. 'Sleeping' around gets you into precarious situations sometimes. Get some sleep before the big day. -A**

Attached, she finds a picture of her and Wren sleeping next to each other in her bed. Wren has his arm around her waist. From the looks of it, it must've been taken from inside her room. Somebody was in her house - in her room - while they slept.

Only now does she remember the e-mail she got last night, before the shock of Ali's body being discovered, and she starts to panic. If Ali is dead, who is this repulsive stalker that's messing with her? She feels sick to the stomach. What if it's Ali's killer, looking to kill her, too, now? What if she's next?

She has too many questions that she can't find the answers to. If there's anything Spencer Hastings hates, it's problems that can't be solved, no matter how long she thinks them through.

Maybe she should talk to the other girls about this.

Briefly, she considers calling one of them but then thinks better of it. She'll see all of them tomorrow anyway. At Ali's funeral.

_God. When did her life take this drastic turn for the dramatic, turning into some sort of lifetime thriller movie?_

_..._

It's her mother, still dressed in business attire from her day at the office presumably, who comes into her room to find Spencer lying on her bed in the fetal position, clutching a pillow as she stares straight ahead.

"Knock, knock", she says instead of knocking, probably hoping to get her daughter to smile. She sighs loudly as she looks at her motionless body on the bed. "Can I sit down?"

Spencer knows her mother reserves this sensitive tone of voice for special occasions – special meaning the kind of terrible situation that are hard to handle for everyone, even Veronica Hastings.

"Sure", she mumbles, moving her feet to make room for her mom.

As she sits down, she places a hand on Spencer's arm reassuringly.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you when this happened, sweetie. I took the first flight back that I could get on short notice."

Spencer doesn't know what to say to that. After all, it's not her mother's fault that she happens to be away on business the day the cops find her daughter's missing best friend's dead body. But then again, this is not the first time her mother hasn't been able to be there for her because she was off tending to her career. Spencer can't help feeling a little neglected but she's not about to say it.

"It's okay." A small smile creeps over her lips. She doesn't want her mother to think she's sad enough to have to be dragged to a therapist.

"I called the school to check on you earlier and they said you weren't there. Are you sure you're okay?"

Something about the way her mom says it, sets Spencer off.

"I just found out my best friend has been murdered and you ask me if I'm okay? No, of course I'm not okay! But I can't say that in this house without having you drag me to some therapist to talk about my precious feelings." She throws the pillow she's been clutching onto the floor and sits up, shrugging off her mother's hand on her shoulder.

Her mom seems to have missed the sarcasm in that statement.

"Maybe it would be better for you to talk to someone. Maybe the school guidance counselor or Dr. M-"

"I don't want to talk to you about this right now." Their eyes meet. Her mother seems almost desperate, like she actually wants to help her daughter. She quickly gets up from the bed and brushes the wrinkles out of her blazer with her palm.

Her voice sounds more like the lawyer than the worried mother now.

"The funeral is tomorrow. I've already told the school that you will not be attending classes tomorrow. I unfortunately will not be able to make it due to work but your sister will be there, so you'll have a shoulder to lean on." Spencer scoffs. Her mother shoots her a warning look.

"Dinner is ready in 10. You look like you've slept all day so I'm sure you're hungry."

The knowing look on her mother's face makes her wonder, for just a second, if she knows about Wren sleeping with her; about Wren sleeping next to her (now that sounds more innocent, doesn't it?). She looks at her unmade bed, wondering if you can tell from the way the covers are all over the place that she couldn't have been alone in here.

No, she decides, there's no way her mother could possibly know.

"Okay." She says, her voice sounding a little more panicked than she'd like it to.

Just before her mother closes the door behind her, she pops her head back in.

"And change out of that hideous sweatshirt. Our dinner table is not some cheap fast food joint where you can get away with wearing that."

The mental image of her mother inside of a fast food restaurant sends Spencer into a fit of laughter that is well worth the effort she has to make to change her clothes.

…

"Jason said his parents want to get it over with so that's why they decided to have the funeral as soon as the police releases the body."

It's the first thing Spencer hears as she comes down the stairs, now wearing a pair of jeans and a simple blouse. She made the extra effort to braid her hair to keep it out of her face. She's sure her mother will appreciate her not walking around with messy hair.

The entire family, including her soon-to-be in-law Wren, is already gathered around the table.

She wrinkles her nose at the smell of her mother's tofu lasagna that's currently being served.

Her father coughs loudly when he sees her, obviously signaling that a change of topics is required.

She rolls her eyes but smiles as she sits down next to her mother.

"See, that blouse is much better than that horrible sweatshirt you were wearing." Her mother smiles approvingly. She hands her a plate of lasagna.

Then she addresses the rest of the table. "When I walked into her room earlier, she was wearing this terribly ugly Hollis sweatshirt."

Wren raises an eyebrow at Spencer and shoots her one of his dashing smiles.

Her father gives a silent laugh while Melissa just looks confused.

"You have a Hollis sweatshirt?" She makes a point of staring at Spencer over the rim of her glass of wine.

Spencer is about to say something when Wren does it for her.

"I liked the sweatshirt." He smiles at her. Spencer tries hard not to laugh at the uncomfortable looks on her parents' faces. Especially Melissa seems to be trying hard not to glare at her as she tries to figure out what just happened.

"Why would you even know what she was wearing?" Melissa seems furious as she turns to Spencer. "I thought you'd spent all day sleeping and wallowing in self pity up in your room." Spencer jabs her fork into the lasagna angrily, refusing to meet her sister's stare.

"Well?"

She finally looks up from her plate.

"I did sleep all day, yeah", she mumbles. Wren looks amused by the situation. "I also wouldn't say finding out your best friend was murdered and grieving qualifies as self pity. Wren saw me this morning, before I went back to bed. That's all."

"That still doesn't explain where you got the sweatshirt."

"Enough of this ridiculous bickering, girls! Let's just eat and not talk."

Both girls scoff at the same time.

"Melissa, you should be nicer to your sister. She's going through a lot right now." Ms. Hastings shoots her a warning look.

"Well maybe she should be nicer to me, have you ever thought about that?"

"That's enough, Melissa." Mr. Hastings gives his daughter a stern look.

"Ugh, whatever. Of course you're taking her side."

"Melissa!" Both parents shout.

They spend the rest of dinner in silence.

Wren keeps smiling at Spencer whenever she looks up at him, gestures small enough for Melissa not to notice.

She can't decide if her life is really, really tragic or really, really fun.

Probably neither and both at the same time.


End file.
